


Living in the now

by darter_blue



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Age Difference, Anxiety, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bitty is 17 in this fic, Bullying, Dont be afraid, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Jack is 22, M/M, Panic Attacks, Racism, There is flirting between them, actually quite sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 03:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue
Summary: Growing up a small, blond, baking, figure skater in Georgia is kinda rough. It's definitely rough on Bitty.But Bitty takes a trip to Boston and gets a glimpse of what life might be like after high school. It might still be kinda rough, but boy, are there gonna be benefits.Jack Zimmermann shaped benefits...





	Living in the now

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya folks. So this here's an AU that's basically pre-canon with an alternate Zimbits meeting. 
> 
> Check the end notes for possible triggers (see tags), but this is mostly a happy fic. You know me, I'm all fluff, all the time ❤
> 
> Okay just FYI:  
> Bitty is still at High school here. He is 3 months from his 18th birthday. Jack is 22. If this is a trigger for you, please read with caution and check end notes for warnings...  
> 

Bitty is used to feeling small. His daddy is the football coach for the local Madison high school. Football players of various heights and girths (but always, _always_ bigger than Bitty) are constantly in his living room, his backyard, his kitchen (they steal more food from his fridge in one afternoon than Bitty eats in a week) and on their best behaviour, they are loud and obnoxious and overbearing.

 

On their worst behaviour (whenever his father is _not_ around) they are mean and violent and particularly homophobic. Bitty understands this is a culture they were raised in. He also understands that they are giant dickbags with low self esteem and shitty attitudes.

 

Bitty hides the bruises well, because he doesn't want to move again. He used to be a figure skating champion. But things for Bitty got so bad, they had to move towns and it wasn’t an option any more. Not one that wasn’t fraught with insurmountable obstacles anyway. Here, in Madison, he’s found a hockey team that appreciates his speed and his grace and his soft hands. And his baking, they definitely appreciate his baking. He has friends that make the bullies seem less important, more like a nuisance he just has to survive (like Amazonian level insects) until graduation. And then he's getting out. He and his best friend (and his line’s centre) Jorani have got matching hockey scholarships to Boston University (his and hers, as it were). She’ll finally be free of the woefully ignorant ‘mail order bride child’ comments she receives weekly (despite the fact that her Cambodian mom is the town veterinarian and was born in South Dakota) because the cheerleaders hate that she won the genetic beauty lottery. Bitty will finally be free of the ‘fagot’ ‘twink’ ‘cocksucker’ you-name-it-he's-heard-it insults that the football team like to spit at him (or sometimes scrawl on his locker, or sometimes leave on his facebook). It will be bliss.

 

And when Bitty finds out his co-ed club has given the team a mostly expense paid trip (taking their own bus) to see the Bruins play the Habs in Boston (because they won their final, Bitty scored a hat trick, all forty members of the crowd - including his mama - gave him a standing ovation), Bitty near has a coronary on his Kitchen floor.

 

‘Mama, this is the greatest thing that has ever happened to me’

 

‘Dickey, hon, you were the 2010 United States, national junior silver medalist. I think you might be exaggeratin’ just a pinch’

 

‘Hush mama, I'm seventeen years old, I only live in the now,’ he says with a smile and his mama reaches up to kiss him on the head (she is all of five foot in flat shoes) as she passes him by, reminding him to ask his daddy’s permission before he gets too excited.

 

Boston in February is magical (or filthy, you know, depending on your mood). The stadium is so full it’s insane. Their seats are near the visitors section, but they were free, so they none of them complain. Bitty is with his favourite people, Jorani and the rest of the team, and he’s smiling so hard he might bust his cheek bones. Not long into the first period though, after Rani has chirped someone hilariously, and Bitty has responded by throwing his head back in full bodied, eye watering laughter, he can feel eyes on him.

The boy watching him is tall, but not huge or hulking. Just tall enough for it to be noticable. He has a sort of, alpha wolf thing going on, especially with those crazy light blue eyes and intense stare. And he looks angry, or sad, or maybe confused? But all of those things pale in comparison to the pain thats bleeding out of him, obvious whenever he turns back to the game. He _is_ watching Bitty though, he's sure if it. It's frightening and it's exciting and Bitty is drawn in, enthusiastically curious as to what might be going through that boy's head.

 

Mister Intensity, Bitty will call him, is sitting with some team alumni, one of whom looks suspiciously like him (his father, at a guess) and a beautiful woman with the same ice blue eyes (if that's his mama, well it's no wonder this boy is so damn gorgeous) and they are getting hounded by just about every person in the room.

 

‘Jack here goes to Samwell,’ he can hear the alumni telling his fans with pride, ‘Captain of the team next year, most likely,’ Bitty hears the boy object to that with a quiet ‘Papa,’ but nobody seems to be listening to him. _Jack_ his name is. And not a boy really. He must be at least twenty, maybe even twenty two or twenty three. Bitty has wandered so far away from his team now, he's lost them in the throng of fans. But he can't help inching closer and closer to this magnificent creature. Everything about him is perfect. Although Bitty wonders what he would look like if he smiled.

 

Maybe Bitty could make him smile…

 

But _Jack_ is not receptive to Bitty's subtle flirtations. When he catches Bitty watching, when he sees Bitty’s shy smile, he doesn't seem pleased. He turns away. He looks, nervous maybe. Angry, maybe. And Bitty is reminded of how cruel boys like that can be. Athletes. Desperate to prove their manliness. Assured by God and everyone that that means standing on the bodies of the less-masculine, less-powerful, to seem taller and exude dominance.  

 

Perhaps he was just baiting Bitty all along. He certainly seems like he is avoiding Bitty now. So Bitty tries to get back to his team. Back to Rani, his favourite centre. Back to the people who make him feel safe. But they're lost in the sea of flying food, spilled beer and violent chanting.

 

And Bitty is flailing now. This feeling, this pressure, is too reminiscent of being surrounded by burly footballers, shoved into lockable closets, beaten into crying out for his parents. He’s panicking, and he has his ticket around his neck on a lanyard, he’s in his jersey. Nobody stops him when he winds up down in the restricted sections. He runs into a player in Habs paraphernalia (but no uniform), looking lonely and forlorn in an otherwise empty hallway.

 

‘Hey,’ Bitty says, cursing the wide eyed innocence that’s likely plastered all over his face.

 

‘Hey.’ The man looks up from his phone, looks Bitty over and puts it into his pocket.

 

‘Aren’t you… don’t you play for Tampa?’ Bitty asks. Because Bitty knows some about hockey (make that, cute hockey _players_ ) and his Goalie, Fredericks, is a little obsessed with the Bolts. So Bitty recognises the player as their goalkeeper .

 

‘Not today kid,’ he says. ‘That’s Ceddy’s job now.’

 

‘Ceddy?’

 

‘Cédrick Desjardins, we got traded.’

 

‘Oh... I’m sorry.’

 

‘Yeah. Kinda sucks. Also kinda comes with the territory, yeah? I’m a Hab now, so.’ He looks Bitty up and down, slowly this time. ‘You lost or something?’

 

‘Uhh…’

 

‘You don’t sound local.’

 

‘Ha, good pick-up. My team and I are just visiting…’

 

‘Oh,’ his eyes take on a little heat, ‘you play?’

 

‘Yeah, like, just a little club stuff.’

 

The guy has about six years, five (okay maybe six) inches and seventy pounds on Bitty. And he’s edging closer and closer to Bitty, along the wall. Bitty should move, but he’s frozen.

 

‘What are you doing back here, pretty thing like you?’

 

‘No, nothing, I just…’

 

‘What is it you’re looking for, kid?’ His voice has dropped an octave. It sounds dangerous to Bitty’s sensitive ears.

 

‘Not, I’m not…’ Bitty isn’t interested in the look the guy is giving him, or the way he’s crowding Bitty into the wall, using his size to trap Bitty without touching him (but, oh, he feels the threat).

 

‘You don’t have to be shy, you can tell me,’ and the smile he gives him is predatory. He reaches out one long finger and traces it over Bitty’s collar bone. Bitty instinctively flinches from it, but there’s nowhere to go.

 

‘No. No. You’ve got the wrong idea, I’m not… I don’t...’ Bitty can feel the panic start to take over now. He can feel phantom hands reaching for him, cupping him in places that should be intimate but feel wrong, hurtful in the hands of someone unsafe. He’s trying to shake his head, but he can’t move. He’s paralyzed by fear, some current and some just a memory, but it all rushes through him to keep his limbs heavy.

 

‘It doesn’t seem like I do. You don’t seem to be going anywhere…’ He moves his face just that little bit closer, and Bitty closes his eyes against it. He wants to pretend to be anywhere but here ‘so _beautiful_ , aren’t you. Just a tiny little thing-’

 

‘Please don’t-’ Bitty’s trying and failing to melt into the wall.

 

‘What the fuck!’ someone yells from Bitty’s far left and the guy jumps backwards, dropping his hand away from Bitty like it burns. Bitty looks up to find none other than _Jack_ , alpha-wolf, Mister intensity, staring at them from the end of the hallway. ‘Are you okay?’ He says, quietly this time, eyes on Bitty now.

 

‘I’m okay,’ Bitty says, taking the opportunity to back away from the guy and towards Jack.

 

‘We were just talking,’ the guy says, ‘You’re okay, right, kid?’ he looks to Bitty and then back at Jack. ‘It’s none of your business anyway, Zimmermann,’

 

Jack seems to flinch at the name. Bitty doesn’t like the pain he sees in his expression. He does his best to de-escalate the situation.

 

‘I... I’m okay. I might just… go… though,’ Bitty says, slowly moving further from the guy and closer to Jack.

 

‘You don’t have to go,’

 

‘Oh, thank you. It was nice to meet you, but I really should get back to my team.’ Bitty turns and takes off, sure he hears a mumbled ‘cocktease’ from behind him, but Jack is close at his elbow and practically escorting him away from the threat.

 

‘What are you _doing_ back here.’ Jack asks as they make it to a safe distance.

 

‘I got a little addled, is all, I just need to find my team again.’ Bitty is struggling to keep his tone light. He is _addled_ for sure.

 

‘What were you doing with that asshole.’ And Bitty’s eyes are probably welling up, because Jack turns to him and it’s like a switch is flipped, ‘Did he hurt you?’ he says softly.

 

‘No. Ah, not really. He just, didn’t really want to listen to me.’ Jack’s fists clench and unclench as Bitty watches the muscles in his arms do the same. ‘Do you know him?’

 

‘No. Not really.’

 

‘He knows you though. He called you Zimmermann.’ Bitty see’s the flinch again. ‘Is that your name, or…?’

 

‘Yeah, It’s my name. You didn’t know that?’

 

‘Why would I know that.’ Bitty asks, perplexed. He shouldn’t know him, right? His dad (or whoever) said he was a player at Samwell, not in the league.

 

‘You wouldn’t,’ Jack shrugs awkwardly, ‘I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.’ ‘Are you going to be able to find your team,’ he says, after a beat.

 

‘Ha, probably not, knowing me.’ Bitty covers his face with his hands and tries to take a deep, calming breath.

 

‘Maybe I should help you, bud. You’re really shaking.’ Jack moves to place his hand on Bitty’s arm but holds himself back at the last second. ‘You’re not hurt?’ he asks again, worry in his cadence.

 

‘No, not this time,’

 

‘Not this time? This has happened before?’

 

Bitty looks up at Jack and wonders why he even brought it up. He _never_ talks about this. ‘Yes, a long time ago, I. Somebody… a guy at school, touched me where I didn’t want him to, and I… bit him and he... Well he…’ Bitty takes a breath for fortitude, ‘he hit me, and he locked me in, trapped me in, a utility closet. Him and his friends. And I… It took me a long time to get over that.’

 

‘Oh, bud…’ Jack looks so lost for words, Bitty takes pity on him.

 

‘I’m mostly okay now, but sometimes I panic, you know, and I just, freeze up…’

 

‘I’m… I… I’m so sorry, I don’t…’ Jack’s hands are hovering near Bitty, as if he’s afraid to touch him, but he wants to help somehow. ‘How can I help you?’

 

‘Just stay with me a minute? Don’t leave me alone?’ Bitty asks softly. There’s more of a crowd around them now, but it seems like mostly staff, and they don’t pay any mind to the little blond and his dark haired companion, leaning against the wall together. ‘I just need to calm down some.’

 

‘Yes, yeah. I mean, I can do that,’ Jack says with relief, He squares his shoulders a little, ‘whatever you need, bud.’

 

‘It’s Bitty.’

 

‘It’s what?’

 

‘My name. Eric Bittle, actually. Bitty’s a nickname.’

 

‘You prefer Bitty?’ Jack asks, one perfect eyebrow raised in question.

 

‘It’s what my friends call me.’

 

‘Bitty it is then. I’m Jack, by the way.’ Jack straightens his hand out for Bitty to shake. He takes it, holds it just a fraction too gently, slides his fingers back for just a little longer than he should. The way Jack swallows, inhales slightly sharper than normal, sends a thrill through Bitty. Even after everything that just happened. Something about Jack feels _right (_ and Bitty is seventeen, remember, he only lives in the now). ‘Ah, Jack Zimmermann, that is, obviously.’

 

‘Obviously.’ Bitty parrots, pulling a huff of laughter out of Jack. ‘Can I ask you something,’ Jack nods, ‘where you actually looking for _me_ out here?’

 

‘I was, _calisse_ , I was coming to find you, to see if you wanted to go sit somewhere with me.’ He rubs his hands down the sides of his face to rest around his neck, ‘and now I feel like just as much of an asshole as _that_ guy.’ He gestures behind them, in the vague direction of the hallway.

 

‘You’re not. At all,’ Bitty says, taking a step into Jack’s space.

 

‘Why not.’

 

‘Because,’ Bitty wipes his sweaty palms down his jeans before putting them into his pockets and hunching onto his shoulders, ‘you were going to _ask_ me somewhere. He was trying to _take_ something from me.’ Bitty’s nails bite into his palms, he’s holding his fists together so tight. He's not stupid, he trusts himself. Trusts his instincts, always. ‘And, Jack, I would have said yes to _you_.’ And he looks up at Jack from under his lashes, pleased to see the blush climb into Jack’s sculptured cheeks.

 

‘Yeah?’

 

‘Oh _Lord_ , yes,’ Bitty says with a smile.

 

‘Do you, I mean, would you… like, want to go now? Or…’

 

It’s not just that this boy is gorgeous, or tall, or fills out his jeans like they were made for him: it’s the way his cheeks are flushed at Bitty’s inexperienced flirting, the way his smile is soft and small and so hard to come by, but absolutely breathtaking when it appears. It’s that this boy was looking for Bitty, helped him when it seemed like he needed it and didn’t just walk away, could read Bitty enough to know that he was upset and acted on it. Those are all things that tell Bitty, Jack is more than just a handsome face.

 

‘Could we maybe, um. I really should get back to my team, just to let them know that I’m okay.’

 

‘Right, sure. Of course,’ Jack nods solemnly, like he was stupid to think otherwise.

 

‘But I mean, then could we go, like get a coffee maybe?’

 

‘Oh,’ the smile is back, ‘I like coffee,’ he says, leaning towards Bitty, ‘we should wait till after the game though, I guess, eh?’ And that accent? The adorable sweetness? Bitty is melting.

 

‘Here, let me give you my number. Text me and I can meet you somewhere after.’ They exchange phones to add their contact information. Bitty’s hands are steady, but he can see that Jack’s are shaking. He reaches over to place his palm over Jack’s wrist and wrap his fingers around gently. He moves his thumb in soft circles against his pulse point. ‘Hey,’ he says, ‘you don’t have to be nervous. I’ve literally never been on a date before,’ he smiles, ‘so I have no frame of reference to judge it by.’ Bitty takes it as a win when Jack smiles back.

 

‘Neither have I really,’

 

‘How is that possible?’ Bitty asks with disbelief.

 

‘Come have coffee with me and I’ll tell you all about it.’ And really. As if this boy isn’t charming right down to his bones.

 

They get Bitty back to his seat (his seat number is literally hanging around his neck) and Jorani gives him what for when she sees him. Eying off Jack with a little speculation and a lot of shade as he waves goodbye.

 

‘And where were you, Mister Bittle?’ Jorani asks.

 

‘Nowhere! I just got a bit turned around. And then that nice boy you're glaring at brought me back to my seat.’

 

‘Huh.’ She is less than impressed. ‘You’ve been gone for like thirty minutes. You missed two goals.’ Bitty decides to change the subject.

 

‘So, Samwell, that’s near Boston right?’

 

‘Yeah, it’s like less than an hour away. Good hockey team. Bad Bob Zimmermann’s son plays for them you know.’

 

‘You don’t say.’ He really needs to google these Zimmermanns. Maybe he should wait till after his date with one though. ‘Rani?’

 

‘Yeah, Bits?’

 

‘Do you think College is gonna be any different?’

 

‘Than what, hun?’

 

‘Than High School. I mean, am I just trading one bunch of homophobic assholes for a different bunch of homophobic assholes?’

 

‘It _will be_ different here Bits. I think you can find the worst kind of people everywhere, but it's the best kind of people you find who make up for it. And you're gonna find them here, Bitty. I just know it.’

 

Bitty looks into the stands and finds Jack, looking back at him now, no trace of the sad, angry, confused boy in him. Just a slight smile, tugging at the corner of his lip, blue eyes soft and shining. _The best kind of people._ He looks back at Rani, her strength and her kindness, and pulls her into a hug. Maybe he’s met some of them already. Maybe everything about his life, post Georgia, is going to change, be different, _be better_ , and maybe Bitty's going to get everything he ever wanted. Because everything Bitty has ever wanted is just to be himself and be loved, and be happy.

 

He's allowed to have that, right?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I should be writing chapter eight of Love Exactly, but this ficlet jumped right out and bit me today.
> 
> It was a pretty cathartic experience. I really just had a lot of mood today. 
> 
> I don't know whether any of you, readers, will like this, but please know, any and all thoughts and comments are so very greatly appreciated. 
> 
> So, trigger warnings:  
> *spoilers*  
> Bitty gets very aggressively hit on by a stranger who would likely have assaulted him if Jack had not intervened. (We have a very big problem with male athletes not understanding consent in this country).
> 
> Bitty deals with a lot of homophobia in his everday life in Georgia and some of it is explicitly mentioned in passing commentary.
> 
> Bitty talks briefly about past assault and bullying
> 
> Bitty panics during the attempted assault and freezes up.
> 
> Bitty describes racist comments made to an OFC of Cambodian descent.
> 
> About the age difference. Bits is still 17 and at high school. Jack is a 22yr old college student a bit smitten by Bitty's warmth and grace. Their interaction is cute and fluffy and nothing happens between them. But if you feel them interacting in any way is innaproriate then you may not like this story)  
> Thank you ❤


End file.
